It was already too late to go to the store where Lana worked, and Airplanes went straight to the hotel where she lived. Turning off Route 17, which is also the main street of the town, onto South 8, he saw the name "Grand Inn". On a side street behind the hotel, he found a parking spot, parked, and got out of the car in an unusual state of excitement, mixed with a slight drowsiness that did not interfere, but on the contrary, made everything that happened around him look like a dream.
The warmth of the night mingled with the tart scent of the ocean breeze. From the amusement park located across the road came the screams and laughter of visitors who had not yet calmed down. From a neighboring street running along the ocean, flooded with bright yellow lights, the musical rhythms that were popular this summer could be heard coming out of the windows of passing cars in basses. Everything around was relaxed, fun and carefree.
The hotel was a two-story building in the shape of the letter "P" with one shortened leg, painted in lime and white, typical of the local resort towns. The entrances to the rooms were located on the galleries surrounding the hotel from the outside, and the windows and balconies of the apartments overlooked a cozy courtyard with a semicircular pool and a pretty garden with sculptures.
A side passage led from the parking lot to the hotel courtyard, near which stood several young people with sparkling eyes, drunkards and disdainfully dressed as local homeless people. One of them, who had a small stature and a luxurious mustache, looked at Samoletov with particular attention - however, without any suspicion; rather, friendly-sympathetic.
Nikita realized long ago that the style of dress in local conditions means nothing: here, in worn jeans, flip flops and a faded shirt tied in a knot at the belly, both a downtrodden tramp and the owner of the most luxurious hotel on the coast can walk.
Stopping in front of the aisle, Nikita tried to figure out where to start searching for the number 211 he needed. For some reason, he did not want to ask the locals, just as a scout who had penetrated behind the front line would not want to ask the enemy patrol for directions to headquarters. Knowing that the first number, most likely, means the floor, Nikita, under the curious glances of the resting company, went to the stairs leading to the upper gallery, and began wandering through the labyrinths of the hotel - as it soon turned out, with completely zero results: the layout of the rooms did not fit into any system or sequence.
During his search, he crossed the patio several times, each time passing by the pool, in which, despite the late hour, someone was splashing. At some point, he saw how the swimmer got ashore and, in the light of the bright moon, began to wipe himself with a towel near the sunbeds located by the pool. He was a well-tanned and well-built young man with dark curly hair. His face was so beautiful that Nikita was taken aback for a second: looking at such young men, you begin to understand homosexuals.
This man seemed familiar to Samoletov. Something betrayed in him a representative of his distant homeland. The most amazing thing is that at the same time he did not even have clothes on which this could be determined. But something elusive in his behavior and facial expression said that Nikita was not mistaken. Peering into his face, he recognized in him the very young man who had met him at the university when he and Lana went to get a ticket.
The guy glanced at Nikita, got into his sandals and, continuing to dry himself with a towel, disappeared into one of the hotel's many passages.
Suddenly, Samoletov thought of Lana: “She lives in the same hotel with such a handsome man, and she is also his compatriot. He is much younger than me, and as far as attractiveness is concerned, there’s nothing to even compare. They have been living under the same roof for more than one month."
Realizing that if it goes on like this, he will wander until the morning, Nikita with great difficulty found the passage from where he began his journey, and again found himself in the parking lot. The company of drunkards had already thinned out, but the mustachioed one was still there. He called out to him:
- Hey sir, are you looking for something?
- Yes. I need number 211, - Nikita answered.
- Oh, that's it! - Mustachioed spoke as if he had known everything for a long time: about Lana, and about why Nikita had come here. - Are you by any chance looking for the wrong blonde Russian girl that lives in this room?
- Yes, it was her, - Nikita liked the mustachioed one less and less.
"Who is he and why is he so knowledgeable about where Lana lives?"
- Her name seems to be Lana?
- Yes exactly.
"Then you're looking for her in vain."
- Why?
"Because she's not here," the mustachioed man seemed to be terribly pleased that she wasn't there and that Nikita was getting more and more angry.
- Where is she?
- An hour ago I went to a disco at the club "Yesterday".
- And how far is this club? - Nikita asked in confusion.
- Not really. On the twenty-first north.
- Thanks! - thanked the voluntary assistant Nikita and quickly went to the car.
- Please, sir! She and her friends were taken there by the son of the owner of the store where she works, - the mustachioed drunkard continued to inform him in pursuit, rejoicing either at his awareness, or simply from the fullness of life.
Club "Yesterday" Nikita found without difficulty, as he had already passed by on the way to the hotel and remembered it by its bright neon name and the crowd of young people at the entrance. Having parked the car in the club parking lot, Nikita entered the spacious inner hall. At his attempts to show the ID to the guard or pay for the entrance, he only waved his hand: they say, go like this; we see that you are here by chance and seemingly safe. In indescribable excitement, Nikita entered the huge ballroom, framed around the perimeter by a second tier with tables. Immediately, from the hoarse speakers, a powerful drive hit him in the ears, in which only the rhythm could be distinguished from all the music, and the light of the color-musical spotlights rotating under the ceiling blinded his eyes.
Having got used to it a little, Nikita began to peer into the crowd dancing on a platform raised above the floor in the center of the hall. As befits such clubs, on two high elevations along the edges of the platform, almost under the ceiling, two slender girls-ringleaders in erotic black short dresses, dark stockings and black high-heeled boots wriggled in a dance. At first, it seemed to Nikita that he recognized Lana in one of them - the figure and manner of dancing were very similar - but, looking closer, he realized that he was mistaken.
Sifting through the intertwining bodies constantly moving in the flashing light did nothing. "Perhaps she is no longer here?" thought Nikita. However, he soon came up with a simple idea: you need to relax, buy a beer and go up to the second tier so that you can slowly look at the crowd from the balcony. The night ahead is long, especially since he has nowhere to go anyway.
He passed into the adjoining room, which was a large bar where patrons could take a breath, rest from the noise and quench their thirst at the tables. The bartender asked his ID what flattered his deep adulthood, and, looking at Samoletov's strange passport, without batting an eyelid poured him five dollars' worth of beer into a large plastic glass.
With a beer in hand, Nikita returned to the ballroom and went up to the second tier. He took a fine vantage point at a table near the metal partition, looked around the noisy and smoke-filled hall, in which lights and shadows swirled, and took a sip of beer. In the next second, he nearly threw up. Samoletov was already used to the fact that in dance clubs, under the guise of beer, they sell sour water tinted with yellow, commonly called urine, but in this club the administration was too zealously concerned about the sober lifestyle of the younger generation. Nikita squeamishly put down his glass and began to carefully study what was happening below.
He almost immediately saw a figure that he would not have confused with anything in the world. Lana was dressed in a white T-shirt and a short skirt with a playful slit on the side.
She danced breathtakingly. Her body movements were simple and even economical, but they contained such sexual energy, such an intimate appeal that Nikita's breath caught. Her shoulders, chest, hips and legs seemed to radiate bewitching sensual waves into the surrounding space, and she did not put the slightest effort into this. It cannot be learned, it can only be felt.
She danced in the crowd and at the same time all alone. The young people present in the hall, apparently, also noticed the flexible sexy blonde, who seemed to give the luxury of her body to everyone around her through movements. Every five seconds a young man danced up to her and tried to combine his movements with her dance. Around Lana there were already a dozen such seekers of her favor, but she continued to dance in her public loneliness.
Suddenly, she seemed to feel that she was being watched by someone who was not related to the green burly men surrounding her. She stopped, as if waking up from a dream, looked around, trying to understand where the waves embarrassing her were coming from, after which she slid off the dance podium and headed for the exit. Nikita rushed to the stairs and managed to notice how Lana, having gone out into the hall, disappeared behind the toilet doors.
Well, it was foolish to delay the meeting any longer. Nikita went down the hall and stood in front of the women's toilet.
- Sir, would you like to buy some corn? - suddenly turned to him a pretty American girl with an exaggeratedly friendly look, selling popcorn in the lobby.
- No, thank you, I'm not up to corn right now, - Nikita answered with a broad smile and immediately noticed or rather felt the toilet door open and her shining aura, heated by dances, appeared on the threshold.
Imagine the astonishment of the popcorn seller when she saw how a girl in a short skirt, who had just left the toilet, with a squeal of wild delight, interspersed with words in an incomprehensible language, jumped at an interesting man with whom she had just talked, clasping his legs around him. waist. The man barely stood on his feet, then twirled her around him, smiling shyly, at the same time trying to kiss her in a laughing mouth.
Finally, Nikita held her weightless-elastic body in his hands.
- Planes, you're here! she screamed in delight, hugging him tightly by the neck.
She always called him by his last name; however, this did not bother Nikita at all and even pleased him.
She unclenched her legs, slid down him to the floor and, not letting go of her embrace, clung to him with a long wet kiss. At the same time, he almost physically felt the eyes of all the Americans present in the hall crossed at them.
Samoletov was always embarrassed by the violent manifestation of intimate feelings in public. On the other hand, he liked being the center of attention, and even more liked what caused this attention. Somewhat bewildered, he pushed Lana away from him and said, beaming with happiness:
- Go!
- Where? - Lana raised her thin blond eyebrows in bewilderment.
- No matter where. The main thing is that there were no people there.
- What about my girlfriends? We came together!
Such questions always baffled Nikita. On the one hand, Lana showed crazy feelings for him, and at the same time she thought about some girlfriends who themselves can take great care of themselves.
"They've already left," he lied as best he could without batting an eyelid, completely unconcerned about the consequences of his harmless lies.
- Yes? - Lana said half-assertive-half-questioningly. - Okay, let's go.
How he loved in her that perfect suppleness, which she extended only to him!
Holding hands, they left the club, which was already closing. A crowd of young people dismantled cars from the parking lot, completely filled them with young love-hungry bodies and, turning on louder car radios and CD players, drove around to their hotels.
She wasn't even surprised to see his cute Dodge Neon. However, once inside, she happily cooed:
- It's great to have a car after all! You are just great!
- It's even better when such an amazing girl like you is sitting next to you in the car, - Nikita added and immediately clung to her half-open lips.
His mind, exhausted by the long journey and overexcited by the ongoing events, which seemed like a delightful dream, was ready to explode from the feelings that overwhelmed him. His hand slid down to her feet, where, to his delight, he found the most ardent response in the literal sense to his touch. He tried to find the clasp at the cloth hiding her hips, but it was not so easy.
- Wait. What are you doing? she protested weakly.
- I want you. I haven't held you in my arms for a million years.
Me too, my sunshine. But not here!
- Well, - Nikita pulled away from her, with difficulty shaking off the delicious hops of insanity. - Let's go somewhere.
- Where?
“Where there are no people,” Nikita suggested, not even imagining the magnitude of the problem: how to find a secluded place at three in the morning in a resort town at the height of the season?
"I know such a place," Lana exclaimed, trembling with impatience no less than him. - Let's go to the ocean, to the beach, it should be empty now.
The planes taxied out of the parking lot of the club and headed for the Pacific Ocean, which was noisy only two blocks away, consisting of hotels, restaurants, shops and paid parking lots lined with cars.
Abandoning the car in the parking lot of one of the handsome hotels along the stretching beach line, they joined hands, their shoes taken off in their free hand, and walked along the wooden platform towards the sound of the still invisible ocean. Leaping over a merry foot-washing fountain, they plunged their feet into the night-cooled sand.
There were no stars, no moon, and the ocean was approaching them like a huge black abyss, humming and hissing from the very horizon. And the closer they came to the line separating the two parts of the earth - inhabited-lit and frighteningly black - the more they were captured by the wild elements. As soon as they reached the sand, compacted by waves and dense as concrete, Lana suddenly pulled her hand away, untwisted it, threw her shoes up, and she rushed to run towards the edge of the earth, flashing with small white heels. For a moment, Nikita was even afraid that now this swaying, sighing wall would swallow up her magical silhouette, and he would be left alone on a completely alien shore. Throwing off his sandals, he rushed after her, barely able to control the dizziness that comes from the white foaming line of waves running towards her.
The bank sloped down gently, so that he had to run long enough through shallow water before he managed to catch up with Lana. They seemed to stop in the middle of the ocean. Their clothes were wet from the bottom, but in each other's arms they did not feel either cold or tired. They were overwhelmed with delight from the meeting after a long separation on the other side of the earth and water, which now seemed to them the most dear and closest place in the world.
- Lord, how happy I am that you came! - barely holding her breath, so as not to suffocate from excitement, she said.
- Lord, how I love you for what you are! - Nikita shouted in delight, over the noise of the waves. - Can I ask you one thing now?
Lana tensed a little, realizing what he might ask her now. Nikita looked into her face. Several splashes of salt water hit him; however, it could be tears. "No," he decided to himself, "I will not spoil such a night with stupid questions about her marriage. If she wants, she will tell everything herself."
And he asked:
- Do you love me?
- Yes!
- Thanks! He closed his eyes in the rush of bliss. - If you knew how long I wanted to ask you about it!
- The most terrible thing is that such an answer is enough for you, - Lana suddenly said sadly.
- Why do you say that? - in turn, he was worried.
- Because our meetings are becoming less and less, and the love is stronger and stronger, and it seems that you like it.
- Not at all! he protested.
- I understand more and more that the success of our relationship lies precisely in the fact that we meet so rarely.
Nikita studied her face. He had lost the habit of her simple but precise thoughts.
- Lord, what are you like me! .. - he exclaimed.
- Which?
- You... you... you don't fit into any framework at all! To be honest, I still can’t believe my eyes that there is such an amazing girl in my arms and I can do whatever I want with her. I am infinitely grateful to fate for giving me you. You have the most successful female traits.
- Stop it, Planes. You overwhelm me and I'll be spoiled.
- You are not in danger.
- Why?
- Because a smart woman cannot be spoiled, only a stupid one can be spoiled. At first I thought that you were a great lover, then I decided that you would be a good mother to my children, and now I see that you are just a very wise woman.
- I'm not wise, I just love you more ...
These words were worth a lot. With a sharp movement Nikita lifted her up in his arms and whirled her in one place, not paying attention to her cry - either feigned fear, or delight. Then he clung to her lips with a taste of the ocean and carried her out of the water to the shore.
When he reached a dry place, he gently lowered her to the sand and clung to her as tightly as possible, remembering with his body every curve of her figure.
She, too, clung to him, and, feeling his tight flesh with her thighs, she suddenly seemed to faint, whispering almost in oblivion: "How I missed you!"
Then she slid down his body, kneeling in front of him.
Nikita, completely at a loss, felt how someone below unzips his shorts and releases something that has long demanded release. He looked around and only now realized how damp the idea of the deserted beach was at this hour.
In a light foggy haze, illuminated by the mystical violet light of powerful halogen spotlights installed on the roofs of hotels, on the vast expanse of the beach among the towers of the rescue service, a lot of moving lonely and group shadows suddenly appeared.
Nikita pressed Lana, raging below, to himself, trying, as it were, to disguise himself and form one shadow of a man who had stopped in thought by the ocean.
- Fool, the police will arrest us for insulting public morality! he exclaimed and tried to lift her from her knees, but it seemed that she didn't care anymore. He knew this peculiarity behind her - to lose her head completely and irrevocably when she went into a rage. Sometimes it frightened him, but then he even began to like this journey beyond the bounds of public morality. He even began to find pleasure in doing this in front of random bystanders - Samoletov was laughed out of their insane expressions of their curiously frightened faces.
And then what he was afraid of happened: from the direction of the hotels, a whole family, consisting of several adults and two offspring, went for a walk on the beach. People were happily talking about something, the little ones rushed to the ocean - and here they, to their complete horror, noticed a strange couple standing in their way.
Surprisingly, it is not those who are caught in overt debauchery who are more frightened and feel a sudden sense of shame, but those who accidentally stumble upon them.
The whole family fell silent in shock and, as if bypassing the invisible wall surrounding the lovers, moved quickly away.
Nikita, feeling wildly awkward and at the same time barely holding back his laughter, lifted the girl who had lost her head from her knees and pressed her to him with all his strength so that she could not even move.
“They won’t let us in here,” Airplanes tried to bring her to himself.
- I'm going to explode, how I want you! - she did not let up and tried to kneel down again.
- I propose to return to the car, - Nikita said decisively, - and find a more secluded place ...